Page 71 of The Voice We Find

It’s what I figured. “I’m gonna help you stand, and then we’re going to walk down the hall together, okay? Do you remember the candle you found next to the sofa? We’ll turn it on.”

She nods into my shirt, and I count to three and pull her to her feet, making sure to keep a strong hold on her waist.

She’s far from stable, but I’m encouraged when she puts one foot in front of the other. It’s progress.

“Here we go.” I feel for the sofa and ease her onto it as I fumble for that flameless holiday candle. If it works, I’ll tell Gabby she can keep this Christmas decor up for the rest of the year if she wants to. I click the button on the bottom, and the room illuminates with a golden hue.

I’ve never been so thankful for a candle in all my life.

I pull the piano bench directly in front of Sophie and set the light there. I want to get it as close to her as humanly possible.

Outside, the wind and rain battle for attention, but inside, the only sounds I’m focused on are the slowing exhales of the woman nestled beside me. Panic attacks are not my area of expertise. I don’t know what is helpful or harmful in situations like this, but much like the candle I set before her a moment ago, I want to be as close to Sophie as humanly possible.

I open my arms to her in silent invitation, and without speaking a word, she curls into me. I don’t know how long we stay huddled together in the stormy dark, or when she finally feels safe enough to drift off to sleep, but I do know that whatever past experience brought Sophie to the panicked state I found her in is far more significant than she’s let on.

And I hold her all the closer for it.

18

Sophie

Did I leave the light on in the tasting room?

I’m half a key-turn away from getting out of the February cold and curling up withPretty Little Liarswhile binge-eating my feelings on all the food Mom never lets me eat when she’s home, when I see the stupid light in my periphery. As if Kiersten getting the stomach flu and cutting our sleepover short wasn’t bad enough, now I get to walk across the property in the rainy dark without a coat. Unless I wait until morning? The thought is so tempting I nearly give in. But ultimately, I don’t need to give my dad one more reason to think I’m too irresponsible to get my driver’s license next week.

I drop my backpack on the porch and march down the path, braced against the frigid wind. The four-digit code on the tasting room door was recently changed, but I have it memorized, so I punch it in quickly. But as soon as I’m inside, heading for the main switch, the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

I hear voices. Multiple. Male.

Get out. Get out. Get out.The words slam into my skull, and I haveno intention of ignoring them. I spin for the exit, frantic to get back to my house, lock the door, and dial 9-1-1.

But I never get that chance.

A meaty, gloved hand shoots out from behind me and presses hard against my mouth. I can’t scream. I can’t breathe. I thrash and fight and hear my captor arguing with someone about what to do with me.

I wasn’t part of their plan.

I twist, gaining enough leverage to elbow my attacker in the ribs, hoping the blow will give me a chance to break away, but it only angers him more,and soon my vision spots and my limbs grow heavy and weak.

I’m going to suffocate.

I’m going to die.

The second voice grows closer now. When the brute behind me smashes my cheek onto the cool bar top, I catch a glimpse of the masked man before he pats me down in search of my phone. He won’t find it. It’s still in my backpack on the front porch.

I’m pulled up by my hair and commanded to walk, keep my head down, keep my mouth shut. If I obey I won’t get hurt.

My assailant’s monstrous body brushes against my back as we take the stairs to the cellar one at a time. Sickness sloshes in my belly. What are they going to do to me?

His fingers dig under my collarbone like a hook, and even though my mouth is free, I’m too afraid to cry out. Even if I did, who would hear me? My parents are out of town for the weekend, Jasper is away at college, and there are no employees expected till Monday morning.

For a moment, I wonder if I can pull off a maneuver like the kind I’ve watched in movies,where the lead actress distracts her offender and then dodges his attempts at recapture. But this staircase is steep and narrow, and even if I could make it to the top without him catching me, his accomplice is still looming somewhere above us, waiting.

So I take a different approach.

“P-please,” I stammer. “Please let me go. I won’t say anything. I swear. You can take whatever you want if you just—”

“Shut up.” He squeezes my bones until I wince, but I don’t shut up. I can’t.

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